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Summary

You are allowed to change guilds. Some of them are pretty obvious: a few Simic guildmages have ultimately left their Zonots for the Selesnya Conclave. Sometimes it's bizarre, but still makes a certain amount of sense: some Gruul warriors have ultimately preferred the harmony of the Boros Legion to their original clan.

Summary

"Take my tie off."

Nathan actually looked at Richard this time. He was looking at Nathan, his arm hanging out of the car, cigarette glowing faintly in the warm night. His pupils were as wide as they went, and his breathing might have been a little shallow, or that might have been Nathan projecting.

Richard took a drag off his cigarette and blew it out the open window. "I'm waiting, Babe."

Summary

The rich kids never had records, even the ones who did steal. Someone always seemed to see to that. Richard didn’t like that, and that slotted itself in with the rest of the unpleasant, true, and useless stuff his sense for social dynamics told him.

Summary

Enjolras presses his lips together. He already looks pained, and Grantaire hasn't even opened his mouth yet. That's got to be a record, even for them.

"I need a favor," he says at last.

"With what?" says Grantaire. "Ooh, are you forming a cult? Can I join? I'd be awesome at cults, I just know it." He ticks off his qualifications on his fingers. "I love chanting, I look great in robes—"

(High school AU. Grantaire the disaffected stoner is pulled into a cause bigger than himself. Or: in which there are pretend boyfriends for great justice.)